<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>do you feel ashamed (when you hear my name) by newrromantics</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797682">do you feel ashamed (when you hear my name)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrromantics/pseuds/newrromantics'>newrromantics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gossip Girl (TV 2007)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:33:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrromantics/pseuds/newrromantics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>with an open heart, open container //                 moments in time after it all burns down. loosely set in an alternate post s5 universe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>do you feel ashamed (when you hear my name)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>anyway, don't be a stranger.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He catches a glimpse of her in Paris: wisps of struggling brown curls, the flash of divine ivory draped across her shoulders, the curve of her glossy red lips quirked in a wry smile, her fingers clutching the copy of a book. </p><p>Idly, he wonders if she ever read his latest novel. A two-hundred and forty page self depreciating love story between two ghosts trapped in a New York elevator.</p><p>He hasn't seen her in years.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The morning of the day they break up (she breaks up with him) they kiss until their lips sting, her fingers tracing patterns against his shoulder blades as she makes a compelling list of reasons why <em>Dark Passage</em> is the superior Bogart and Bacall feature.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"I wanted you to know," Blair begins. The two of them are sitting in Serena's study, nursing matching whiskey neats and judging the eclectic collection of young romance novels and classic literature Serena has accumulated, while her housewarming roars on outside the double-doors trapping them in. "I read your book."</p><p>His fingers still against his glass. His eyes pausing on the half-finished title of a book on her shelf. He wants to know what Blair thinks. He realised a few months into the breakup he missed her critiques most of all, not the scathing burns she used to doll out at him in some frenzied power rush during high school, but the constructive criticism that helped inform him into making better decisions. It wasn't until after they were gone that he saw they were always given to him with something akin to love. He doesn't want to ask what she thought.</p><p>"I didn't hate <em>all </em>of it." </p><p>He wonders if she saw any of herself in Marianne. He wondered half-way through it was being put through the process of publishing that elements of Blair had snuck her way back into his work.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair becomes engaged on a Thursday. He hears about it from Serena at the weekly Humphrey-Woodsen Sunday brunch.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The morning of the day they break up (she breaks up with him) they watch half of <em>Frances Ha</em> before having to leave for work. He passes her a croissant from over the kitchen bench and cradles her head in his hands as he presses a kiss to her cheek. She makes him a black coffee and curls her fingers around his upper biceps as she leans in to kiss him goodbye. They have plans to finish the movie.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He leaves for Portland to write in the Spring. His publisher wants something fresh. He is nursing a freshly broken heart he is willing to serve up on a platter for her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"I heard you're engaged, congratulations." Dan chokes out at a charity function, the two of them have found themselves alone amongst a sea of strangers, the upper echelon and their disappearing friends. She's wearing blush pink and is sporting a fragile diamond, she looks content. </p><p>"I heard about Hannah," Blair says softly, in consolation. "I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In Paris he chain-smokes out of an Airbnb and kisses men in nightclubs. He writes along the seine river. He sends her post-cards to the wrong addresses. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The morning of the day they break up (she breaks up with him) she tells him that she loves him as she's pulling a pair of stockings up her legs. He has a piece of toast hanging out his mouth, his shirt half-buttoned. <em>I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dan wishes love was enough to stay.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Blair breaks up with him in the afternoon, the sun settling into a soft butterscotch over the city. There is enough love strangled between them to drown an empire. But she feels suffocated, drowning. She's moving to Paris. <em>I need to be alone</em>, she explains. <em>I've never been alone</em>.</p><p>He kisses her for the last time outside of a nondescript book store four blocks from her penthouse and asks for her to post the sweaters and books he's left cluttered in her bedroom. She argues for him to come and get them, one last time, <em>it's not the end, Humphrey</em>, but he feels like there is a sullen finite finish to their story. He feels if he steps inside those walls once again they'll be tainted, damaged with this memory, and he wants to leave with the love still living inside the walls. He would have told this to Blair once, but he chokes on the words he wants to say.</p><p>It's Serena who drops the boxes on his doorstep two weeks later with an apologetic smile and a handwritten letter from Blair. He's sober enough to read it aloud with cheap beer on his tongue and the sunset dropping further into the horizon. Blair has long left New York. He imagines she's settled in her fathers house by now, in the childhood bedroom that never truly got to belong to her the way she would have liked.</p><p>He doesn't tell anyone what the letter says. They don't really press for answers.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Blair marries a sweet pastry chef she met in a French vineyard. Dan is invited to the wedding, but he opts to stay home. Through the grape-vine he hears she's pregnant within the year. He thinks of Milo often.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's at Nate's wedding he sees her next: face flushed from laughter, her curls cut into a sophisticated bob, her fingers curled around a champagne glass. In the corner of the ballroom her husband dances with their daughter, dipping her and spinning her. </p><p>Blair's face lights up when she sees him (and it's already lit). "Humphrey!" She calls, beckoning him over. "It's been too long." She envelops him with air-kisses and light touches, the hug lingering a beat too long for old friends, familiar heart strings tugged slightly. </p><p>Serena is gushing about Nate's newly-appointed husband's sister's cousin. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Serena says dreamily. Blair wrinkles her nose and takes a long sip from her glass.</p><p>"Enough, S." She hushes her, directing her focus on Dan.</p><p>"I read the new article in the New Yorker, very astute." He realises she must keep track of his work the way he keeps track of hers. He remembers a lifetime ago working side-by-side at W, of coming home and crawling into bed after their long days at competing magazines. </p><p>"I read the piece about the fashion in Coppola films you did for Elle." He offers. </p><p>It feels like a peace-offering, but there's no bad blood to mend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He gets too drunk and calls her when he's in Paris. He's here on a writers retreat, not by choice.</p><p>"I saw you the other day," He slurs across the line, "You're so beautiful."</p><p>She tells him to come over and texts him the address. He takes another swig of his tequila and gets in a car. He's got his lips on hers the moment he bursts through the door, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moves them blindly around the unfamiliar space.</p><p><em>I have a boyfriend</em> she chokes out at one point. <em>I don't care </em>he chokes back.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair makes a toast at Nate's wedding. Serena throws up in the back of the Uber they catch together.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair slips a note into the pocket of his pants the morning she wakes from their Paris tryst. She makes him coffee before he leaves, the two of them bidding a final goodbye at her door through pushing tongues.</p><p>The note reads <em>I liked This Side of Paradise better the second time I read it.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"What did you think?" Dan can't help but ask in Serena's study. He hasn't seen her since Paris. "<em>Really</em> think." He presses.</p><p>Blair swirls the alcohol around in her glass. She is not yet sporting a diamond. He thinks about the boyfriend. "I thought Marianne was an interesting character. She felt <em>familiar.</em>" She leaves before she says anymore, excusing herself through the use of a phone-call. He hears her coo <em>honey</em> lovingly as she steps outside.</p><p>His own girlfriend is outside in the living room, mingling with friends and family she's never met before.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>The first time they break up Blair is scared. She has been in love so many times before and it's never worked out. </p><p>The first time they break up Blair runs to Chuck because she craves a sense of security, a sense of clinging to the past.</p><p>The first time they break up Blair regrets it within the week, back on his doorstep, offering an apology in the form of Chinese take-out. </p><p> </p><p>The first time they break up they don't talk much about it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The second time they break up Dan is drunk.</p><p>The second time they break up Dan is hurt.</p><p>The second time they break up Dan fucks up.</p><p> </p><p>The second time they break up they talk all about it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The third time they break up it's final.</p><p>It feels like both their hearts have been pierced by bullets.</p><p>
  <em>It's not because I don't love you - </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Blair misses Dan as if she's missing a limb. In the midst of it all, she finds herself having lost an extension of herself; in the relationship, out of the relationship. In Paris she wanders museums alone and has dinners with her dad and Roman. She drinks a glass of red wine every single night before she goes to bed, always reading something new. (Sometimes, she touches his words; Inside, the love-letters they'd write each other, the vows he wrote for Louis, his short stories he wrote just for her eyes, the articles he would write for websites, his next book).</p><p>First, she misses everything.</p><p>The sex. The stimulating discussions. How he smells after he's come home from work. The way he yawns when he's tired. His touch. </p><p>But then, with time, she just misses him. Her best friend.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She sees him in Paris. Not his mop of curls, not his long gangling limbs, not his piercing eyes. But his name. His name on a new book. She pays in cash and devours it in secret and underlines all the most important words.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He enters the study without knocking and she feels her stomach curl in annoyance. Dan Humphrey always did feel entitled to walk into spaces he didn't belong. She pushes the bitterness down. That was the old immature Blair, she is too old for petty jealousy and resentment. He's her friend, in a round-about way, and they're civil. She smiles at him and raises her glass in salute, he mimics the action before browsing through Serena's catalogue of books.</p><p>Together, they move around the room in silence, in sequence. Before she used to marvel at the ease in which they slid into each others space, worlds, as if they were seperate puzzle pieces always supposed to be slotted in next to each other. Once or twice, they murmur low under their breath or share a quizzical look as they find a title they're not expecting. Blair openly mocks Serena's poetry choices out loud, knowing never once has her best friend ever gotten past the first page.</p><p>Later that night she'll call him and ask if he's alone. His breath will hitch on the other line and she'll hear him shuffle out of bed.</p><p><em>It's really good, Dan. </em>She'll say just above a fraction of a whisper, invisible words he thinks he's dreaming. <em>I loved it. </em>She almost spills out a you but she gobbles it back up and hangs up without saying goodbye.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The morning she breaks up with Dan she thinks she doesn't know she's going to do it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He asks her, only once, why she did it. He asks her in the middle of a charity gala for Constance. Her daughter is in the corner of the room, an eleven year old spit-ball of energy that's electric and demanding and gentle and kind. She's leading Dan's daughter around the room, bossing her around like an older sister would. His daughter is still so young, barely four years old and she feels a sharp pang of jealousy, a longing for that time and when she looks at their daughters together she can almost see a similarity, a life that could have been.</p><p>"What changed?" He asks, like a curious friend might.</p><p>Blair speaks to him rarely these days; always cordially, but never the same as it once was. "I don't know."</p><p>She went to lunch that day and suddenly she felt as if she had been drowning all her life, locked into one relationship after the other, and by the time she felt found it was too late to turn back time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Blair kisses Dan for what is truly the final time she wills herself to commit the act to memory. The day she realises she can't quite remember what it's like is the day she really mourns for what they lost.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>He meets Hannah in Portland. They make-out in the bar's bathroom and he accidentally calls her Blair the first time. They don't ever speak about it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair is past jealousy, over Daniel Humphrey by the time she meets Hannah. But it doesn't stop her from formulating ridiculously lengthy plans on how to derail her life as she sips on her wine, watching as she hangs onto Dan. Her stomach churns. She goes outside to call Benjamin.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He marries Maria and is divorced after a year and a half.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair thought Benjamin would last. He leaves the weekend after Nicolette turns fifteen. </p><p>Serena takes her out drinking, and she barely feels any loss at all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't marry Pearl, but they have Sayre. Pearl doesn't believe in the institution of marriage.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blair dreams of fucking Dan quite a bit after her divorce.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Blair runs into Dan on her second day back in New York.</p><p>He's standing in line at the film forum. She has the instinct to run away. But he catches her eye.</p><p>"How's the writing?" Blair asks, politely. He feels like a stranger she longs to get to know.</p><p>"It's been good."</p><p>She remembers the first time they came here together. It almost feels like a film itself to her, a black and white reel.</p><p>"How's your sister?" Blair had heard Jenny had moved in with him over the summer. He pulls his sweater down at the sleeves and shrugs his shoulders.</p><p>"She's good. Annoying. Has turned the whole loft into a fashion hoarding ground."</p><p>She misses him so fiercely in that second. He asks her how long she's planning to be in the city for, and she doesn't know.</p><p>"Anyway," Blair smiles. "I should get going." </p><p>He touches her shoulder as she turns to leave. "Don't be a stranger."</p><p> </p><p>She never is.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>